“I have no idea what you mean.”
“And stop sitting like a princess.”
“P-Princess?” Esther squeaked. Her bloodstream felt like boiling water, static crackling down her arms. Outside, a splash was followed by a string of curses.
“What makes you say that?” she whispered sharply.
“Oh, moons.” Lyssara winced as the entire window beside them splintered with a loud crack. “I meant the posture. The way you’re sitting on your cloak like it’s a throne.”
Esther swallowed hard.
“Maybe a drink will relax you. What do you like?” Lyssara asked.
“I’ve never had alcohol.”
“What,” Lyssara gasped dramatically. “You’re twenty-one?”
“Almost twenty-two.”
“You poor, sheltered child! We’re fixing that tonight.” Lyssara flagged down Luna—just as Nythir leaned in to slip a coin between the woman’s breasts.
Crack!
Esther wanted Lucy’s arms to cry into. She should’ve kept her interactions with men strictly to reading novels.
There was an undercurrent in the room that had nothing to do with flirtation. Voices pitched just low enough. Laughter timed too carefully. Esther felt it prickle along her spine, as magic warnings did, the sense that something was being decided nearby without her consent or understanding.
“Well,” Lyssara groaned, dragging a hand down her face, “she’s definitely going to notice that now.”
“Good thing there aren’t candles,” Esther muttered, staring at the ruined window.
“Good thing indeed. Oh—they’re finishing up. Come on.” Lyssara moved to join the others.
Esther didn’t.
She stayed tucked in the shadows, staring through the cracked window.
Sunset stretched endlessly, unblocked by palace walls. Rolling paths, distant mountains, even the edge of Ashvale—everything lay open before her.
It was beautiful.
It hurt.
“That’s a very big crack,” Nythir chuckled, sliding into the seat across from her.
His voice—she hated how much she loved the sound of it.
“Is it true you’ve never had alcohol?”
“It’s true,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. Her stomach twisted. For the first time in her life, she worried about the damage she could cause.
“Try this one.” He nudged his mug toward her. His fingers brushed the rim—the same fingers that had just touched Luna.
She pushed it back. “I don’t want to.”
“Just a sip?”
Stars, she wanted to. But—
